


Not Alone

by skullmoss



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullmoss/pseuds/skullmoss
Summary: Keith feels alone in his new role after Shiro dies, but he forgets that he isn't the only one to have someone he loved taken from him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> With the hinting of season 2 giving us an "emotional moment" between Keith and Allura, I'm sincerely hoping it's Allura bonding with and mentoring Keith if Shiro does disappear. This is kind of filling that void until then.
> 
> addendum: while not necessarily a shippy fic and it could be interpreted a multitude of ways, i used the ship tag because i figure Keith/Allura fans can use some content!

He thought Shiro gone once, but now…he truly _is_. Snatched away, taken, both in body and soul. He’s not ready for this, _still_  isn’t ready for it, and as Keith looks up at Black, quiet and still in her hangar, he feels a weight settle on his shoulders, having to take up a role he doesn’t feel fit for.

He would say it’s a big uniform to fill, but the Black Paladin armour is gone too, taken and returned to its “rightful” bearer the moment Haggar tore it loose from Shiro’s lifeless body. _Everyone_  knows this isn’t right, everyone _knows_  he isn’t fit for the job save for the one person who just _isn’t here anymore to hold his hand and help him_.

The only person he ever trusted.

The only person at the Garrison who gave him a _chance_.

Keith drops the red helmet he had tucked under his arm, the sound of armour hitting solid ground echoing across the belly of the Castle-ship. His cry is silent, frustrated, and he runs his hands across wet eyes, through his hair, pressing fingers rough against the nape of his neck before he sinks down, curling up into a hunched over ball in front of the large looming presence of the Black Lion.

He’s unsure of how long he’s been squatting there, his legs starting to ache, but he’s so wrapped up in a turmoil set to spin in his brain that he doesn’t _hear_  her approach, and it’s only when there’s the pressure of a gentle hand against the back of his head reminiscent in the way _he_  used to calm him down that he realizes there's someone else here.

The spinning stops, he opens his eyes which feel heavy from being squeezed shut, and he stares at the ground, feeling the skin crawl at the back of his neck beneath the press of his fingers, even if the hand in his hair is almost…soothing.

Whoever it is doesn’t say anything until he finally composes himself, straightening his posture, rising on legs that feel stiff, and the hand moves from his head to his shoulder.

“Keith…”

It’s Allura… _of course it’s Allura_. He was supposed to be training in Black ages ago, no wonder she would be here, to scold him, to–

“I know what it’s like. To not be ready for something.”

Her words are firm, but her tone understanding, the grip on his shoulder turning solid, and he turns to look at her, see the settling of… _something_  in her face. 

“Allura…” he says, almost stupidly, and he swallows thickly, trying to close in on himself, to hide the vulnerability of his palpable anguish, knowing from the stinging of his eyes that they’re no doubt pink from crying. But there’s no judgement in her gaze, just a small sad smile that breaks through the otherwise authoritative air she always seemed to have.

“But you’re a princess,” and _there_  comes the bluntness, the unthinking, and Allura’s expression thins a bit, looking distant, and he recognizes a certain look in her eye.

“That doesn’t mean I was ready. And…I still don’t think I _am_.” She shakes her head, removing her hand from his shoulder to clasp both in front of her. She’s in her own flight suit, different from the one she used to wear before things changed. It’s pink (“ _A spare”_  she had said, once the dust settled, and had left it at that. It doesn’t suit her, no one thinks it suits her. She should be the one in Black, _she_  should be the one in the stolen Black uniform, if not _Shiro_ , then it should have been…)

“Keith.” Her words break his train of thought, and he looks at her, not realizing that he had been staring at the ground again. “Shiro knew what he was doing, naming you as his heir.”

“But _you_  should be–”

“ _I_  already have enough responsibility as it is. And Black…she calls to you. I feel it. I’ve felt it since the beginning.”

He wants to argue, but words feel dead on his tongue, the anger and frustration laden in his gaze. Not at her, but at the fact that no matter how many times he offered it to her, told her he wasn’t ready, that he _shouldn’t_  be doing this, she refused, each and every time. Saying “the lion chooses its paladin” even though it had been _Shiro_  who decided, _Shiro_  who had left, _Shiro_  who had died…

“I lost someone I loved. Twice now. Someone I looked up to.” _Again_ , her words cut through the silent turmoil that rears in his mind, and again he finds himself looking at her even if she’s not _telling_  him to look at her. She just has that steadying command, that way about her. His eyes widen when he realizes he knows what she’s talking about, who she’s talking about, and again he feels stupid.

“I could never hope to be the man my father was. It doesn’t even feel right, to call myself…” Her voice halts, as though reluctant to bear her own feelings to him, but knowing there’s a reason why she’s saying this, “Why else do you think I still call myself a Princess? When my father is dead, when I should be…” She bites her lip, rolling her eyes in a familiar gesture of inner frustration, and it’s then that Keith sees beyond the untouchable aura she seems to give, a part of her that’s familiar, tension trying desperately to cling and hold together the cracks.

And it’s her turn to be blunt now, her turn for her voice to grow dense and heavy. “King Alfor and Shiro are dead, and we both stand in their shadow.” Again, she looks frustrated with herself, as though she had something prepared, but that it didn’t quite come through as she had hoped.

She reaches forward to take him by the shoulder once more, and he doesn’t feel the urge to pull back, instead looking at her with a newfound understanding, determination set in her face, one in which he tries to mirror.

“I _do_  see a leader in you Keith, but it _will_  take some work. But that’s why I’m here; I will help you, train with you. And I will teach you as my father had taught me.

“You are not alone, Keith. Neither of us are.”


End file.
